Careful
by ulquiorrii
Summary: His eyes flickered to me and our eyes met. For one ephemeral moment, I was sure he was mad; though, there was something that made me somehow think otherwise. I should've been careful enough. HibariOC 2-part one-shot
1. Breaking

I knew I shouldn't have been there that afternoon; I was supposed to be eating lunch at the cafeteria. Although, considering the circumstances that time, I'm sure I would've still done the same thing.

Perhaps I really don't understand myself at times. Like, when you're choosing between chocolates or flowers, you're not sure what your answer would be because you know that at one time or another, you'd chosen otherwise than your former choice. Not that I've been torn between chocolates and flowers in my life before. Of course, nothing beats chocolates.

Anyway, considering that not all the students in the school are happy with having me around—I'm a transfer student who'd just gotten the unfortunate luck of getting enrolled in this school—I guess, there was no way that I would've stayed there at the cafeteria that lunch. Honestly, I don't know what the problem with me was (or even with them, for that matter). Is it possible that they could hate me for no particular reason?

I guess, the only option for me that time was to go outside the building and eat lunch somewhere outside, and since the trees appeared to be giving off enough shade to whoever wanted to stay under them, I was tempted to sit down on the grass and, just, feel the wind blowing through my hair. I was sure lots of by-passers might've thought it was weird, but when you're hungry, and you've got no other place to stay, the people's opinions are the last thing you'd ever think off.

Fortunately, there weren't much students walking around that time, and not much attention, really. Perhaps, if it weren't for the unnerving silence and the eerie atmosphere, I wouldn't have noticed that little _something _that dropped to the ground beside me with a soft thud.

It was a small bird—probably a baby. I touched it gently, and watched it flutter erratically its little wings, only that he wasn't able to do much. At its movement, I was sure it has broken something, and since it's still small, it can't do much if it had fallen from more than six feet to the ground.

I quickly got up and scooped it up with my hands, gently. There was no way this little being could've fallen from the ground while it was flying, so maybe it had fallen from its nest, or something. I looked up above into the trees, and, sure enough, there I saw a little nest, almost completely obscured by twigs and leaves. There were even several small birds fluttering their tiny little wings.

I instantly felt bad about the little bird lying limply on my hands. Forgetting about my unfinished lunch, I carefully held on a protruding branch and stepped on the lower trunk after I secured the bird's position in my uniform pocket. Slowly, I made my way up. A few feet more and I'd be nearing the birds' nest.

To be honest, it was my first ever try to climb up a tree. I've never really done it in my entire life, probably because I knew I'd definitely hate doing so—and I was right.

The instant I put the little bird to safety, the branch I was stepping at gave in. I yelled at the top of my lungs, though I was quite sure nobody would ever come to my rescue.

Strangely, though, I landed on the ground with not so much of a large impact. When I opened my eyes, I was lying on my back, facing the sky. The sky was so blue that time, I noticed, and the sunlight was just so soothing on my skin. Naturally, though, I have to get up and see what I've landed on to. I had to hold on to my neck softly, however. I felt some slight twinge of pain when I tried to crane a bit to the side.

I was surprised when I looked and saw that it was a person which I've landed on to. He was then sitting up, with his hand supporting his upper body carefully. Surely, his face was quite familiar, but I wasn't able to quite put a name on the face. He's got the darkest hair I've seen and, when I managed to peer under those bangs, I saw the most dangerous pair of eyes; which, however, looked the slightest bit shaken that moment. There were also two weird-looking metal objects by his side, which he appeared to have been holding on to before I fell, which then led me to the question . . .

How and when did he exactly arrive at that place?

Perhaps, I've seen him by the school gates that morning or in the hallways during class, but I wasn't really sure how he managed to get himself there under the tree that time. It was really strange, unless he was able to run inhumanly fast.

Emerging from my own little thought bubble, I asked him, "Are you okay?"

His eyes flickered to me and our eyes met. For one ephemeral moment, I was sure he was mad; though, there was something that made me somehow think otherwise.

"Does it hurt somewhere, or would you like me to accompany you to the Infirmary?" I was beginning to worry. I'm sure it must've hurt somewhere in him really bad; he just wasn't saying it. He just kept on glaring at me. I gulped and I wished I was shrinking.

He grunted and stood up a bit unsteadily and impatiently. I stood up as well, trying to give him assistance; though he didn't seem to need it.

I saw him sort of massage his left elbow with his right hand. I just stared at him and wished that I could somehow do something to help this stranger. Well, if it wasn't for him, I would've probably have gotten my neck broken—or worse, my spine. I'm sure he's just hiding the pain.

I didn't really think of apologizing, but for some reason, I just felt that I have to.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there, really. If I did, I would've been careful enough—"

"Your ribbon," he said in a deadpan voice, and his words hung in mid-air. My ribbon? I instantly looked down on my uniform. Well, the ribbon's there, alright. I just let it hang loosely before getting out of the classroom. It was getting hot earlier, so I decided to unbutton the upper part of my blouse.

"Excuse me?" I said, unsure of what else to say.

His mouth was in a thin line before he spoke; his face unreadable. "We do prohibit improper school attire in this school. Next time, I suggest you stick to the proper school regulations if you don't want to get into trouble. That is a direct order from the Disciplinary Committee _and _from the Head Prefect."

I just looked at him and slowly nodded. I couldn't think of anything else to say. Who was he anyway to dictate me on something like that? And besides, it was just a simple loosened ribbon; it wouldn't really do any harm, or anything of that sort.

I raised my eyebrow when I looked down from his gaze. He sighed picked up the two metal pole-like weapons with his right hand (the one, I suppose, that wasn't injured) and left without another word.

I just stayed there and watched him leave; surprised and confused, at the same time.

The next morning, I was definite that he was the guy who was guarding by the school gates yesterday that's why he was so familiar. However, I didn't get to see him that morning, which made me feel sorry. I was hoping that that injury hadn't cost him a day from school.

I saw him once again before going for lunch. He was stepping out from the infirmary all alone, and his left arm was in a sling. I instantly felt bad for him. I just looked down and didn't say a word when he passed by me. I was sure he wouldn't even recognize me from yesterday.

"Hey, you."

Well, he did, and my heart skipped a beat. I turned around and saw him looking at me. His gaze moved from my face to the neat ribbon on my uniform, scrutinizing. His glares gave me chills. It was as if any moment, he would instantly chop my head off.

Then, he smirked. When I looked up, I saw that tiny hint of a smile on his lips.

"Good." He finally said. He then left without ever looking back.


	2. Fleeting Glances

Whenever I arrive at the school, I would always see him there every morning, guarding the gates like the strict disciplinarian that he is. He would always have those tonfas—now I know what they're called—clutched in his hands. The students would remain silent at his presence, and, whenever some of the brave ones make some unnecessary noise, he could easily shut them up with just a single glance. Even the other disciplinary committee members are noticeably fidgetyand shaky whenever he's around. I just don't get it sometimes. Even the bravest of all the delinquents wouldn't raise a voice in front of him.

He is that much respected (or feared?) in this school—err, town.

I'd seldom see him in his class, however. Usually, besides parading down the hallways, he would be in the disciplinary committee office, hardly going out. I'd spot him by the window looming over the students, though. Most of the time, his face would be devoid of any emotion, and if any, it would be annoyance, irritation, or just plain boredom, if that even counts. I wonder how one person could manage such a difficult task.

After that afternoon by the trees, he had never reprimanded me again regarding the school rules and dress code. I guess he could clearly see that I was abiding well with whatever policy they've put up in here. I wasn't even that much of a rule-breaker, actually. In fact, as part of some self-imposed rule, I have always done my best to be the obedient one. And it wasn't even that hard, following the rules and all. I still don't get it why some people tend to do otherwise.

Anyway, I never knew that such a person could dwell in my mind for so long. He's like a demonic, authoritative, communist leader, alright, but I never thought that he could provoke such fear—yes, I'd like to call it this way— in me that just forgetting about him is becoming too hard for me to do. Like, whenever I'm in school, it would always seem like everything I see has got something to do with him. Even my classmates—the nicer ones—would notice me sometimes suddenly being driven into a trance-like mode. They say that I'd often space out like I'm in some alternative world where only I and whoever that was in my mind that moment are the only ones living. I never knew that someone like him could influence me this much. Even those occasional glances up his office window have started ever since our first meeting.

For some reason, it's become some weird habit of mine.

Perhaps I just felt some sort of connection between the two of us. Like, when you're all alone in some unfamiliar world where you were forced to go into, the only consolation you could have is the thought that someone, aside from you, is also feeling that same solitude amidst the crowd. When you're feeling this sort of emptiness, all you'd want to do is to just go to that stranger and comfort him or her. That way, you'd never feel alone again, because you've already found someone you can be with.

Well, I'm not saying that he's actually that sad being alone. I mean, I doubt even that he was feeling that sort of 'emptiness' whenever I see him all by himself. You could see it clearly in his face. Even his piercing steel eyes keep people from coming nearer to him.

So, until now, it's always been a wonder to me why I decided to make him some chocolates for Valentine's. I mean, come on, he'd be the last person any normal girl would give chocolates to in this school. The only tiny hint of reason I see in this is that I wasn't just some normal girl—and no; I wasn't giving myself a compliment.

I was afraid, of course, and I wasn't even sure why. Well, his temper sure seems scary, sometimes, but that I know I could manage (I'm sure my patience could equal his amount of temper). The steely gray eyes? Not really. In fact, I kind of get lost in them, on some of my fleeting glances. Was I afraid of his being harmful or the idea that he could whack my head off any time? I don't think so. I've received much harder punishments in the past, and such things are nothing compared to what I've faced with before.

So, what was it really that kept on pulling me back from walking to his office that afternoon? I deliberated for so long, as I crouched on the floor when nobody else was around. My stream of thoughts sure was running fast that time, and also my heartbeat. Why was I like that when I couldn't find any reason to be feeling that way?

"What are you doing here?"

I instantly shot up as a cold shiver ran down my spine. My eyes grew wide and I could feel my whole body going cold. I clutched the box so hard against my chest that I thought it was about to be torn apart. Hearing his deep, unmistakable voice, I thought my heart skipped a beat.

I turned around carefully, my head hanging low. And no, I wasn't blushing, I wasn't even sure if I was or if I wasn't. "I—uhh . . ."

I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. I instantly shut it up and looked anywhere aside from his eyes. I could feel his eyes piercing through me, and for a moment, I was afraid that he might see through whatever ordeal I was going on through that time.

I was thankful, though, that he still had the tiny bit of patience to wait for whatever I was about to say and didn't bite me to death. I heaved a soft sigh. Finally I looked straight into his eyes. I was starting to get lost in them again, and before I let that happen, I dropped my gaze off and just stared at the floor. I would have to do this without seeing his face, I thought.

"I just . . . well—I just wanna thank you for—uhh, saving me the other day, when I was falling down the tree. Uhm . . . I know it wasn't really what you'd call 'saving' or anything, well . . . that's okay. I still wanna offer this as a sign of my gratitude for, just, being there that moment . . ." I said as I raised both my hands and offered him the box.

He remained unmoving, and worse, I couldn't even dare see his expression. When he doesn't do much of a response, I continued speaking, "You see, if . . . if it wasn't for you, I might've broken my spine or something. Well, you know how hard it could be . . . so really, I'm very really grateful. Even if it all happened by chance."

Suddenly, he walked towards me. He stopped just inches from the box, his arms folded. He was looming over me then, and I managed to sneak a glance from behind some stray strands of hair. He was eyeing the chocolate box, then me.

"I don't eat sweets," was what he replied.

Was that what I feared for the most, his rejection? My gaze dropped off, and I just looked at my shoes as I contemplated on what had just happened. He rejected my offer, alright. It wasn't really much of a big deal. Really.

I kept on telling that to myself again and again.

I lowered my arms and forced a slight smile. I told him I understand and that it was okay. I didn't do anything else aside from waiting for him to respond in some sort of way or leave. I just stayed rooted to the spot for a few moments.

Just when I was about to go, his hand moved, a fleeting movement, and suddenly, the box of chocolates was in his hands. He turned it around and sort of examined it. After a few moments, he stopped and looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I didn't say I wouldn't take it."

I managed to look at him in surprise and, for some reason; I couldn't help that smile on my lips. I looked down from his gaze and smiled wider; knowing full well that I'd look half-crazy and he might just reconsider it and give me the chocolates back. But he doesn't, and when I didn't sense any tonfa going straight to my face, I bowed my head a little and dashed off, not waiting to see what his expression was.

I was sure I wouldn't be able to face him for quite a while.


	3. Weak

_A/N: HEY GUYS! First of all, I just want to say thank you [very much!] for all the wonderful reviews! oh, and of course even to all those who just read my story. I'm so inspired by your feedbacks and all. I jsut wish that I won't screw it this time. LOL. And yes, I keep on saying that this story's a one-shot, but right now, I'm not really sure, so I'm making it a multi-chapter. HOWEVER, I do not intend for it to be that long. Maybe I'll end this in about two to three more chapters. Ya see, I didn't really thought of this before as the sort of romantic fic that I read usually, like, maybe full of fluffs or anything like that_. _I just want the romance between them to be, hmm . . . a bit subtle or_ _not really that_ _seen unless you look a bit more closely (I just hope that I didn't fail on that on my previous chapter)_. _I actually wanted it to be different in some way or another, that's why I never really wanted to write too much fluff or romance, blah blah blah . . . _

_WELL, ANYWAY, as you can see, this would be the third chapter, and it's quite a bit short. Hehehe forgive me, I just wrote this now and I haven't even edited it much. The idea just hit me while I was brushing my teeth, so I had to type it at this very instant before it flies away and leave my mind. Lol yeah I know. Weird. Perhaps I can work on the next chapter tomorrow morning. I was just sooo busy these past few days. BECAUSE TOMORROW AFTERNOON WOULD BE MY HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION! YEYY!_

_**OKAY, MOVE ON TO THE STORY!**_

Being the 'weak' child in the house has really made my family life a living hell for me. When you're a teenager, and all your life you've been picked on by your older siblings in almost everything you do, your house is never a home. That is why, growing up, I've learned how to get myself busy on other things other than family. I knew I had to divert myself from these problems if I wanted to grow up with no suicidal tendencies or any psychological disorders. Not that I really expected myself to have those.

I found refugee from school works, activities and friends. I was always so eager on coming to school, doing club activities, etc. Maybe that was why I was often called industrious or hardworking then, but really, I was no such. I was merely looking for something to distract myself; to keep me from thinking of all the problems in our family. Whenever I don't do anything, sometimes, I get so restless. For some reason, I've always been like that ever since I taught that I needed to divert myself from all those troubles. I guess it kinda worked out a bit, considering that I hadn't become that sort of person who gets affected easily by such problems.

Anyway, of course, coming here to Namimori has changed a lot of things in my life. All the familiar faces were gone, and I'm not even sure if I'm having any friends or not. One thing for sure is that I should not trust anyone in this school. Yup, and that includes that Head Prefect who rules this place. I knew that deep beneath those piercing eyes, those porcelain-like skin and his seemingly perfect features—okay, I have to admit—lays a dangerous, hungry, power-seeking beast that he is. Who knew that such a face could screw so many people all at the same time? He wasn't only harsh; he was deadly, and I'm dead meat if I ever get into trouble with him.

I've seen it with my very own eyes. The other night, I was walking alone in the streets when all of a sudden four guys blocked my way. I wasn't really sure at first, but judging from the look in their eyes and the horrible sneers they were giving me, I knew I was in some kind of trouble. I instantly panicked, though thankfully I was still a bit sensible enough not to show it to them. I tried backing off a bit, when all four of them started laughing quietly.

The four started changing glances, like they were enjoying some sort of private joke that only I didn't know. I knew I shouldn't worry; they weren't coming nearer or doing anything bad. Yet. But the spaces between them and me were what I was worrying at. They were blocking my path, and there was no other way that I could escape from these four unless I started running back from where I came from—which would be kinda pointless for someone who runs as slow as me.

I was starting to have difficulty breathing, and I instantly clutched my school bag—if they're ever trying to steal from me, I'd definitely give them a hard time—when all of a sudden, a black figure just came out of nowhere and stood in front of me. It must have gone down from the fence at the side of the road or something; I couldn't think much of anywhere else it could've come from.

It was a person, and from what he was holding, I knew very well who it was. The look of surprise was evident on everyone else's face. I guess mine was, as well. He clutched his tonfas tightly in his hands, his back to me. I was able to see how tense his back was just by looking at it.

The instant he charged at the four thugs, I immediately covered my ears and closed my eyes, not wanting to see nor even remember any of those scenes. I was able to hear the painful cries and screams a bit, though. But then, I was still glad enough not to have seen them.

After what seemed like hours, the fighting has stopped. I could hear the head prefect's steady breathing. I guess it wasn't really that loud. But during that strange quietness of the night, all I could focus on was him.

I was afraid to open my eyes. All my life it's been one of the few things that scare me the most: seeing limp bodies all tangled up or bleeding and wounded. It was gross, and I sort of feel their pain just by looking at their bodies. However, carefully, I lowered my hands. I opened my eyes a bit, though I still had to adjust a little to the brightness of the street light.

I got chills in my spine just by looking at the four bodies lying limply on the ground, but the moment I opened my eyes, my focus quickly turned to him. He was looking at me, like he's been doing that all his life. Inevitably, I focused on his eyes. They were the same steel-like, lifeless eyes that I used to get lost into sometimes, and he was giving me one of those dead-set stares of his which could seem lifeless and distant, yet could still carry a hundred words. The problem is I have no idea what those words were, if ever there really were. I knew I should be afraid of him, but for some reason, I just stayed, and we just stared at each other for what seemed like a minute.

After a moment, I averted my gaze and the spell broke. I started feeling weak inside again. And so, like the weakling that I was, I turned my back and ran as fast as I can to the opposite direction without a second glance, not fully understanding why I was even feeling that way.


	4. Afraid

_A/N: SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE. again, i'd need to apologize for this one. hehehe, i just hope i won't totally ruin it this time... ugh, i have no talent in this, forgive me. once again, this was written out of impulse, still unedited and i have no clear idea of half the things i wrote. i sure hope you guys would still find the time and energy to read it though. oh well...^^_

The other night, I couldn't sleep so well. I don't really understand why. I would force myself to sleep, and then I'd fail miserably. I tried counting sheep in my mind, and every time I attempted to do so, one face would surface into my head in the end.

You thought that he had done something in me to make me think of him overly like this. What's the guy had to do with me, anyway? I was afraid that time. It was natural for me to run and ignore him, especially since he was the one who had caused all those. Why do I have to feel . . . this weird feeling I myself do not even know about. This weird feeling inside of me is slowly eating me up, and it was all because of him. If I hate him so much, why can't I forget about him? Why does it even seem like his entire feature—those cold distant eyes, his alabaster skin, even that deep scary voice of his—I don't know why they seemed to have slowly etched themselves into my mind. He should be the last person I should ever think of, but why, of all people, should he be roaming in my mind like this?

Perhaps because in all those times that I've witnessed him tormenting other students and wrecking terror in the entire school, I've never, ever had any first-hand experience of his wrath, or whatever I hear from other students. In fact, instead of that inexplicable fear that he should've imposed on me because of his actions, I've felt something else. Perhaps it would be respect that has kept me from being fearful in his presence, and has kept my feet on the ground despite his deathful glares. Again, I still don't understand, but it has always seemed like I owe him something.

Maybe it's started that noon, when he 'saved' me from falling into the ground. Or, maybe that wasn't really the time when it all started. Was it when I saw him smile at me the day after that incident? It didn't even look like that much of a smile, actually, and up to now, I don't know why I have to feel, sort of, elated every time I remember that moment. Maybe it's just that I've never really saw him do that since then, that's why I always feel some sort of privilege when remembering what had happened. Anyhow, I never saw him smile since, so I'd never understood how to feel that way, really.

Why was I so afraid of him that night? What could have possibly been holding me back? That night, when I couldn't get myself to sleep, I contemplated on what I should've done then. I should've thanked him, or something. Why? Because he saved me from those thugs. Again, I owed him something. But this time's different. Instead of feeling gratified, I became afraid. Afraid of what, possibly? Afraid that he might think of me as a clumsy, hopeless herbivore? I don't think so. Then, what is it?

The days that followed were a string of endless daydreams and deep thoughts. My mind was starting to get even worse. I even thought that I should start hating him for starting all these, but in the end, I couldn't find any reason why he should be the one to be blamed. I realized that I merely wanted to hate him. Again, for what, exactly? I know that the root of all these is something deeper; something I could never reach if I keep on clinging to the surface. I couldn't find myself anymore. All I see is him. If I ever want to reach deeper into the pits of my being I have to let go of my thoughts of him, for then will I ever be able to leave the surface.

I was thinking about all these one afternoon in the library, when all of a sudden, my train of thoughts just suddenly stopped. Obviously, it would have something to do with him, for when I looked up from the book I was supposed to be reading, the very first things my eyes fixed upon were his eyes—the same distant ones whose words I tried to decipher, if ever there really were, that is. They were transfixed on me, and I became uneasy. His hands were on his sides, and the wind from the window behind him was so cool, keeping the small strands of hair away from his dead-set eyes. I was immobilized once again as I stared at him that I actually forgot how much time has passed.

Finally, his eyes moved from me to the side, and that's when I noticed the heavy stares from around us. It seemed like for a moment, everyone has stopped working just to watch us. I felt awkward, and I diverted my gaze from his. In an instant, he threw deathly glares to everybody in the room, and in just a snap, they were back to what they were doing. Oh, the fear he sends them with just a single glare!

I was glad I was still able to breathe, for I could never imagine him asking for help in case I fainted. Once again, his eyes bore unto me, and I was again awkward at his presence. He might've finally realized the ordeal that he was dragging me into, for when a minute passed by, he sighed and folded his arms. He closed his eyes briefly, but it was enough for me to gather my scattered thoughts. I straightened my back and looked anywhere but his face. Again, I failed miserably, and I caught myself looking into his eyes.

"Those chocolates," he said, "you were the one who made them?"

I instinctively nodded, slowly and unsure of myself.

He inhaled for a brief moment, and then he continued, his voice monotonous, his face unreadable, "I want you to make me another one."

I could feel my eyes growing wider, and for a moment, I thought what he said was ridiculous. "What?" I heard myself ask.

He opened his eyes and shot me an impatient glance. I thought he noticed my hands gripping the sides of the book tightly, and he smirked. He then leaned in closer, his hands resting on the table. When he again spoke, there was no trace of humour left on his face anymore, "Make me another box of those sweets you gave me. That's an order. If you do not do as I say, I'll bite you to death."

With that, he propped himself up and folded his arms once again. Before he left, I saw the corners of his mouth curl into a slight smile. I could never forget that moment.

The threat was obvious in his voice, if not in his remark. But, deep inside me, I didn't feel that sort of fear that I've felt before that. For some reason, I tried so hard to decode whatever those words that I often see in his eyes. I never wanted to let go of that moment. Besides, I understood a bit of what I was going through.

I now know what I was afraid of. I became afraid of this ever since that day I met him. I was afraid of those sleepless nights, those nights when only that face of that one person is the only occupant of my mind; I was afraid of experiencing those temporary moments of happiness, those daydreams about the other person; the false hopes about fairy tale endings and everything; I was afraid that I might fall into this deep, dark abyss, all alone, with only the hopes of seeing him at the other end keeping me alive; I was afraid of waiting for nothing; of thinking that everything is possible when it comes to love.

I was afraid of falling down again, of the thought that he would be once again there to break the fall; to save me from this ordeal. I was afraid of feeling something for him, for I never wanted to be blinded by things I've once before been blinded by. I know what they say about mistakes, that they make us stronger and surpass even bigger obstacles. But the past would always cling to us, and then they will haunt us forever.

I now find it useless to scratch off the surface and go deeper into what was inside of me. Because I know that wherever I go, all I'd see is him. I know it's too late to hide these feelings now, and it would be definitely hard for me to ignore these. For that's how it is when it comes to falling in love; you can never get back up the way you were before; you just wait for that person to catch you. And that's what I've always hated about it.


End file.
